Score •• louis a.u.

chapter 26

{Trey’s POV}

Oh, is he gonna get it. Oh, am I gonna kill him. I sit fuming on the bench, my legs jiggling up and down quickly, powered by my anger. John stands on the other side of the bench, as far away from me as possible. The other boys sitting down slide over so they’re a safe distance away as well. On the field, Louis heads the ball and I wince, expecting him to crumple to the ground with a splitting headache.

“Those freaking medics have no idea what they’re talking about. Letting him play, UGH.” I mutter to myself, earning a few fearful glances from the benched men. I glare back at them and they turn away. Running a hand through my hair, I stand up and start pacing, stopping occasionally to scream at the players on the field to run after the damn ball. After a few minutes of just my voice, John walks over and takes me aside.

“Hey, Trey, how’s it going?” He asks lightly. I bite my tongue to keep from saying my true thoughts and just shrug.

“Fine,” I say in a clipped tone.

“Great. It would also be great if you stopped yelling at everyone on the field because you’re kind of annoying,” he smiles to soften the insult but I laugh.

“Oh, so I’m annoying? Well, that’s just fucking great to hear isn’t it? I’m annoying because I care about the game? Ok, fine. Show me the nearest exit,” I yell, attracting the attention of some fans in the stands.

“Trey, you need to reel it in. The ref is about to throw you out of the game.”

I quiet instantly. No matter how pissed off I am, I would rather cut out my insides than be ejected from the stadium.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“It’s ok. I know how frustrating it can be, believe me. But you just have to take control.”

I nod and he moves away, getting immediately absorbed back into the game. I go and stand next to him, silently watching no matter how much I want to scream plays out. On the field, Craig has the ball and gets it deep into the opponent’s side. I see Angel sprinting toward the goal at the same time as Tristan moves to cover middle. Craig dribbles with the ball a little bit before he leaves it out in the open. I open my mouth to scream out a ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?’ but John puts his hand over my mouth to silence me, telling me to watch. I begin to panic, my hands fidgeting together as I compulsively count and recount the players on the field and I can only come up with ten, including the keeper. Who are you missing? I count again then my eyes widen. I rip John’s hand away and say, “Where’s Louis?” right before he pops up from behind Craig and runs full force at the still ball. He brings his leg back to kick it but just before he does I can tell it’s not going into the goal. He’s not centered, his right leg is coming around too short and there’s not a clean shot to the goal. I turn around and squeeze my eyes shut. The crowd holds its breath and it’s so silent you could hear an ant fart.

“It’s not going in,” I say softly just as John squeaks a little “yes! C’mon Lou!”

“What?” He asks sharply, turning toward me. I open my eyes and repeat my statement.

“What do you mean it’s not going in? Of course it’s going in! Look it just—oh shit,” he gasps, grasping his face with both hands. I hear a collective groan from the bench and assume my prediction was right. I turn back around and watch as the ball is punted freely down the field and met with a guy from the other team who just kicks it, not really looking for the goal. But it is one.

“Oh shit,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

“What now?” John asks.

“That one’s going in.”